Smell Of Lavender
by alloy-za
Summary: How do you remember the final battle?Draco Malfoy struggles with his father's legacy, and his own actions. The Final battle viewed through memories and dreams, and sometimes the memories are worse than the dreams.Told mostly from Draco's point of view.
1. Smell Of Lavender

The Smell of Lavender.

By alloy

I wake up to the smell of Lavender; the scent of her lingers on my pillow, much like it does on my body.

The rain came while we slept, dampening the sweltering heat just a trifle, but smothering us with humidity.

The humidity persists day and night, and the storms, huge towering masses of cloud and lightning, barely alleviate the discomfort.

We came here to get away.

Here, four poster beds, with their smothering curtains, thick pajamas, and heavy nightgowns are nothing but foolish nonsense. Here, we sleep naked, the sweat pouring off our bodies, before even our thoughts turn to love.

They will install the air conditioner tomorrow.

I, Draco Malfoy, will let muggles into my home, and I will smile, and pay them for it.

Lavender cannot take the heat, and it is my fault we are here.

Little Lucius stirs, jerking me from my thoughts. I slip off the bed, and stand over his cot. His mouth pouts in a sucking motion. His discomfort ceases when I place the pacifier in his mouth. As I watch he rolls over onto his side, legs slightly sprawled. Lavender lies just so.

My father's namesake will be loved. I will break ten generations of hate and emptiness with this child, and the one forming in Lavender's womb. I will love them, and when my love, my stunted shriveled love, is not enough, she will love them, enough for ten generations.

He moves again, and I gently pat his backside until he calms. Would that Ronald could see me now.

Weasley arrived at Hogwarts with hand me down clothes, hand me down wand, and even a hand me down rat. It took me six years to realize the incalculable wealth in his heart.

Potter saw that straight away. The orphan child saw love when it was offered to him unconditionally and took it. I didn't offer him friendship. What I offered was at best a partnership, at worst servitude.

Granger offered him love, too, but she saved her heart for Weasley.

Lavender offered me love and I spurned her; despite me, despite all I could do, she persisted in offering me love, until it became too painful, until I saw my mother in her, until I ran away, until I joined the Dark Lord.

Then I understood hate!

My petty jealousies, my father's recycled prejudices were meaningless compared to the black hatred in the Dark Lord's heart.

One day I realized. Overlooking a devastated landscape that was, the day before, a village. I felt an aching where my heart should have been.

I didn't want this.

I didn't want this for Lavender, for our children. I missed Lavender.

The rain is warm against my skin; I imagine it sizzling against the dark mark on my arm, but only on my arm.

She comes to me. I feel her pregnant stomach against my buttocks, her swollen breasts against my back, her arms around my chest.

"Lucius?" I say

"I have the charm."

A listening charm, an idea stolen from the muggles, to alert us if the child wakens. Hermione had sent it with Ronald's twittering little owl yesterday.

"Why?"

"Why what love?"

"Why did you dance with her?"

I hold back a sigh

"Am I so ugly with this belly, that you need to find satisfaction elsewhere?"

"Lavender, you're beautiful, I don't need anyone else, I don't want anyone else"

Her tears on my shoulder are warmer than the rain.

"Then why did you dance with Hermione?"

"To save her, to save me, to escape the pack of blithering idiots who had invaded our conversation, because She asked me to."

"She asked you to. Does she want you?"

A soft chuckle escapes my lips, "Hardly."

"But you're rich," she hugs me closer, "You're handsome."

"I'm not Ron Weasley."

"I never understood what she saw in him anyway."

"I asked her. She said he made her feel safe"

"Safe? But they were always fighting."

"Who better to fight with?"

The lightning descends on the horizon like a curtain, bolts illuminating the whole sky, reflecting on our wet skins. We don't hear thunder, we won't tonight; the storm is well over the ocean.

"I always thought she would end up with Harry"

"With Potter? You believed that Skeeter woman's nonsense?"

"You didn't?"

"I fed it to her, I was trying to drive them apart."

"But they weren't together then?"

"I meant the three of them. I was trying to stir dissension in the ranks"

"You were evil then." She says grasping me just a little tighter.

"No, not evil. Pretentious, spoilt, self involved, but I wasn't evil, I just liked to think I was. Looking back, I think mostly I was jealous.

"Of Ron?"

"Of Weasley, Potter, Granger, all of them."

"Why do you do that?"

"What?"

"When you talk about school, you call them Granger, Weasley, Potter, but if you talk about today, or yesterday, you say Hermione, Ronald, Harry. It's as if they were different people.

"It's not them, it's me. I'm the different person, but my memories of then, all my memories until I realized I loved you, they're like those of a different person. I know things were different to the way I saw them, but I can't remember them any differently."

"Why their names like, like..."

"Like they're objects, sub-human?"

"Yes."

"I wasn't a very nice person."

"I still fell in love with you."

We stand in silence, as the rain eases just a little.

"Draco?"

"Mmmm"

"Do you still love me?"

"Of course."

"Don't patronize me Draco! I know you've seen her naked!"

I sigh inwardly; tonight she will be obsessed with Hermione. No matter what I say.

"Naked, bloody, bruised, near death! I was just happy it wasn't you lying there."

"Was she beautiful?"

"Ask Ronald."

"I'm asking you!"

"There was nothing beautiful on that day."

The words come unbidden whispered, "I am become death, shatterer of worlds." Had we become worse than what we defeated?

No.

We returned home to love, to rebuild; sometimes you need to destroy in order to create. Voldemort only created to destroy.

Lavender shifts her body against mine, her mood changing, whimsy.

"Do they still fight?"

"Yes, I believe they do."

"Why?"

"I always thought it got their juices flowing, as it were"

"You get my juices flowing."

I turn around toward her.

"I'm not a vase, you won't hurt me, Draco"

Her breasts, her belly glistening in the rain, in the moonlight. My own body responding to her nakedness, her scent. She leads me back inside the house, back into the bedroom, and I immerse myself in the smell of Lavender.


	2. Manhattan Interlude

Manhattan Interlude (Or Hell Hath No Fury).

By alloy

Manhattan: an island of rock upon which towers to the heavens are built. Legends say that the tower of Babel was intended to reach heaven, before God took affront, and split asunder the single tongue of man. In the ensuring confusion the children of Noah were scattered across the world.

Since that time men have tried to unite the world under a common language, more often than not through force of arms. The Romans were so successful that their language is still present, although more written than spoken.

The British Empire was the most successful; English has cut a swath across the world, a second tongue to more than it is a first. But English itself has become a shattered instrument.

"Do you speak American?"

"No I speak English", she had replied.

She cursed requesting the introduction, the man was a boor, she idly wondered if that word still existed in the American language.

He tried to impress her with his wealth, the breath of his investments, his astuteness for opportunity. She wondered why some men felt the need to flaunt their material wealth, as if it reflected their worth as a person. Money did not impress her; she had married a poor man for love, and never regretted it.

He was no longer poor; not rich, perhaps, though he owned a small portion of his brothers' businesses. Even in the darkest times she had not doubted that he would provide as his father had done, what he could, enough, with love.

She couldn't sense the magic in this man. Her witch senses so used to the burning copper brightness of magic that resided in her family. Less magic than even her parents. Her parents were muggles, their magic was of the most common muggle variety, love, but she knew hidden deeply within them was the almost undetectable echo that had birthed her.

This man had nothing; he had been born a squib, and had allowed the bitterness to stifle his soul, so that all that remain was money and lust. He probably wouldn't even notice a Dementor's kiss.

"What does 'Hermione' mean anyway?"

"It means 'Eloquence.'" A voice so familiar, yet so strange; she had loathed that voice, yet tonight she welcomed it."

He had presence; he had always had presence. There were few if any who could match it, Harry of course, and Ron, but only in anger, and he could make Ron so angry.

"Ah does it now, and you are?"

"You may call me Mr. Malfoy"

"Well if you would excuse us, Mr. Malfoy, Hermione and I were having a private conversation."

"It's nice to see you, Draco."

He laughs, a wry chuckle. "How unusual to hear you say that."

"Mr. Malfoy, I am trying to conduct a business discussion."

"Really? I thought you were trying to peer down her dress."

"Well I never! I've never been so insulted..."

"Never? I do believe Draco's just warming up."

"I don't think so, Hermione, hardly seems worth it if Ronald's not here."

"Well Ron isn't really fond of dancing."

"Perhaps then Hermione, I might steal you for a dance, for old time's sake."

"Of course, Draco, you understand Mr. Donner, for old time's sake."

Donner's words became the soundless gulping of a guppy as Draco guided her smoothly to the dance floor just as the orchestra struck up Strauss's timeless 'Blue Danube'. They danced in silence for a moment. He was different; male certainly, but different from Harry, with whom she danced more than her husband. She felt she could see the barest glimpse of what Lavender had seen in him.

"You dance very well, Mrs. Weasley"

"Why thank you, Mr. Malfoy, so do you."

"Why were you sitting with such an unsavory character as Donner, anyway?"

"It was a foolish mistake. He claimed he could broker an investment partner for me, for a product I've developed."

"Why not launch it through WWW?"

Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes had in the past year launched some products which bore a distinctly feminine brand of mischief, and Draco had a firm suspicion that he was dancing with the witch responsible.

"It's really not that sort of product. It's more of a product for parents, with small infants. It's actually a magical version of a muggle device"

"A muggle device?"

"Yes, it's called a baby monitor. Ron and I got one when Arty was born, but I got tired of replacing batteries, so I made a charm."

"Ah, but you still haven't explained what it does?"

"Oh it's very simple; it comes in two charms, one you place near the baby, in his room, or on his cot, the other the mother wears around her neck. If the baby cries, or makes a strange noise the mother can investigate it."

"Only the mother?" He sounded disappointed

"Oh no, Ron wears ours all the time. I have to fight him for it."

"As a potential investor I'm interested, as a parent I'm even more interested."

"Are you serious?"

"Absolutely. Your brothers-in-law are accumulating wealth at such a rapid rate, that all the old money is desperately seeking opportunities. As a parent, this is precisely the sort of product I've been looking for."

"I'll owl you a sample when I get home. No wait, I'm sending it to Lavender as a gift."

"That's very kind. I'll instruct my solicitors to contact you next week."

They dance together in silence for a while before Draco begins to chuckle.

"What's so funny, Draco?"

"My father would be turning in his grave right now, if he had one that is."

"Why?"

"Well," he said, "Here I am, Draco Malfoy, dancing with a muggle born witch." He paused, "No offense Hermione."

"None taken."

"And," he continued, "with whom I have just conducted a business deal. To make matters worse..."

"I'm a Weasley?"

"Yes!"

Hermione had never heard Draco laugh before, laugh with genuine merriment; it was infectious. She began to laugh too, at first a chuckle. Their conservative dance became more exaggerated, as they began to glide across the entire dance floor, trailing laughter behind.

Suddenly Draco got a glint in his eye.

"Do you dip Mrs. Weasley?"

"Dip? Oh no, Draco, you can't! DRACO!"

He dipped, and held her there, both of them still chuckling, and there was a bright flash!

To his credit, despite being blinded, he didn't drop her; he recovered himself, and pulled them both upright.

"Oh dear," said Draco, as they watched the photographer scuttle away.

"Don't worry, I've got some good news that will ease Ron's temper."

"Good news? Hmmmm, congratulations"

"Thank you." She hadn't realized how intuitive Draco could be.

Then he sighed, "It's not Ron I'm worried about, it's Lavender. You of all people should understand Hermione, Hell hath no fury as a pregnant woman scorned!'"

Fin.

Explanatory notes:

1. "Manhattan Interlude" is the title of a story which appeared in DC comics "House Of Mystery" Series in the early 80's. The story was an "I...Vampire." tale which bears absolutely no resemblance to this story. It's a cool title though.


	3. Faith in Other Hands

**Faith in Other Hands.**

_by alloy_

_Beta'd by Scarlettb_

He won't eat. Lavender is panicking, repeatedly taking Lucius's temperature with the muggle thermometer that Seamus sent her.

"It's normal." She says. "It can't be! He's sick. He won't eat."

She puts it to his ear again, waiting for the cursed thing to beep.

I lie on our bed, and place Lucius on my lap, his back against my raised knees. I hold his little head, and try to force the teat of the bottle into his mouth. He squirms, turns his head away from me. When I finally get the teat into his mouth, he refuses to suck and I milk the teat with my fingers trying to get the formula down his throat. The triumph I feel is quickly muted as I take the bottle away and study the measurement tags. He has drunk so little.

"We have to take him to St. Mungo's!" She says to me. "NOW!"

"St. Mungo's is half a world away." I say rationally, trying to suppress my rising panic.

"You brought us, there's nothing here. He could die, Draco!"

He could have died had we stayed; I would have had to maintain a constant vigilance, a constant fear for my wife, my children. Here, we can breathe.

There must be muggle hospitals. There's no magic in his ailment, that much I can tell. It's the only course of action I can think of.

It's two o'clock in the morning.

"Mr. Malfoy. Your son is very sick."

He's a young man, my age. There is fatigue in his eyes, but it has not effected his thoroughness. "I going to test for everything," he had said. "I'm sorry for the expense. But I need data to work with."

I sent Lavender from the room when they took the blood. It is not good for her be distressed in her condition. We have more than one child to consider. She heard the screaming anyway. I had to hold him down, as they bled him. Exercising the iron self control my father beat into me.

"I'm referring you to a specialist. He's the only man in the province."

He places a hand on my shoulder. I force myself not to flinch at his touch. He means only kindness.

"I might be wrong." He says. "But Dr. Pillay is the best person to confirm or refute my diagnosis. I'd rather not toy with your son's life. I've spoken to him, he's going to meet you at Northgate Pediatric Centre."

"We could transfer him by ambulance, but it would be quicker if you drove him yourself."

"I'm not happy with the initial test results." Dr. Pillay is a thin Asian man of quiet demeanor.

"I think there's been some contamination. Sometimes the lab technicians take short cuts with smaller children. I need to take more blood." He pauses, taking in the look on my face. "Perhaps you and your wife should wait outside."

The screaming seems to last forever, but the clock turns barely a quarter of the dial.

Dr. Pillay emerges from the procedure room cradling Lucius. I notice immediately something has been stuck onto his arm with a clear film. It's made of white muggle plastic and, sticking into his arm A NEEDLE!

"What is that?" I ask trying to remain calm.

"It's a shunt." He says. "You son is very badly dehydrated, and is probably going to be on a drip for a few days. We'll put the drip through the shunt, and any medication he needs at well."

I don't understand a word of it. I merely nod taking assurance from his calm confidence. Lavender hides her confusion less well. "Does it hurt?"

"It's tender right now, but by morning it will just be uncomfortable, as long as it doesn't get dislodged."

Dr. Pillay leads us into a room with "ICU" emblazoned on the door. He places Lucius in a cot, and begins attaching strings to his arms, legs, and chest.

"Until I get the blood work, he's going to be on a heart monitor." He indicates a muggle device, which is beeping like the infernal thermometer. He taps the device, indicating some numbers, which keep on changing. "He's a bit upset now, try and feed him now, and maybe he'll calm down."

I allow him to lead me into the corridor. "Dr. Richmond diagnosed adrenal gland failure, based on your son's blood salt levels, which are very unusual. We also discovered a kidney infection, which could have caused those abnormal blood salt levels."

I force myself to think to make sense of what he's told me. "The kidney infection could be the cause of everything?"

"Yes, but we can't know that for certain until we've cleared up the infection. Luckily the treatment remains the same irrespective of the cause."

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small electronic muggle device. "I need some family history."

_I know so little of Lavender's parents. I avenged them, I scattered my father's atoms to the winds, even as he finished saying the killing curse on her mother, a day I have told Lavender nothing about._

_The Brown's loyal house-elf crucified above the front door, two dead Death Eaters felled by her protective magic. Lavender's mother, her body twisted by Cruciatus, vomit soiling the dress of the muggle born orphan child she was trying to protect._

Dumbledore was forced to Obliviate her late born siblings, to protect them from the horrors they were forced to watch and me from their knowledge of my existence.

"We're cousins," I say. "From a very closed community." The doctor nods.

"The chances of such disorders increase under those circumstances." He tells me frankly.

That's why I have no siblings, at least none that were allowed to live.

"Draco."

Her voice shakes, she's near panic.

_"Draco, I'm bleeding."_

Dr. Pillay takes immediate action; he gets her onto a bed and performs a preliminary examination.

"Dr. DeFreites is on call tonight. I going to send you for an ultrasound, he should be able to get here by then."

Lavender stares at him blankly, and turns toward me.

I smile reassuringly. "He knows what's best, love."

"Peter DeFreites is a fine obstetrician." The nurse advises me; I just wish I knew what she meant.

At eight o'clock in the morning my admiration for these muggle doctors has grown tremendously. They have managed to save the babies. Babies, the device they call an ultrasound tells them that there are two children in Lavender's womb. Lucius is stable, Dr. Pillay has taken the heart monitor off, and he has eaten well.

I have yet to sleep. I sink into a comfortable chair, and allow my eyelids to droop.

My phone rings.

"Hello, Draco?"

It's her, they were due to arrive this morning.

"I'm sorry Hermione, I forgot completely." I cannot hide the fatigue in my voice.

"Draco what's wrong?"

"We're at the hospital..."

She cuts me off. "Don't explain, where's the hospital?"

"It's a muggle hospital, Northgate."

"Northgate, got it, what ward?"

I glance up at the sign. "Pediatric."

"We'll see you soon." She hangs up abruptly.

I'm feeding Lucius when they arrive. Ronald smirks at my domestication, until Hermione reminds him that his son's nappy needs changing and he stalks off with Arthur under one arm and a nappy bag over the other.

"He's eating alright." She says, glancing at Lucius, the sight of the drip and shunt not perturbing her in the least.

"He wasn't last night, nor the day before. The doctors think it's a genetic disorder." I shrug. "Too much inbreeding."

"How's Lavender taking it?"

I didn't realize how much I needed someone to talk to. "We almost lost the babies." I blurt out.

"Oh, Draco, no, what happened?"

"The doctor says its stress, she... she started bleeding last night. She's in a ward upstairs. I'd be there but I can't leave Lucius."

"I'll watch Lucius." I hadn't noticed Ronald returning.

"Thank you, Ronald." He nods at me and glances around the hospital cot.

"Where is everything? Nappies and such?"

"The nurses have been changing him."

He looks at me, covers his son's ears and directs a glare at Hermione. "Lucky bludger."

"Ronald!"

"I said 'Bludger.'"

"Never mind." She says. "I'm going with Draco to see Lavender."

He nods. "Alright." And I turn to lead Hermione from the ward.

"Oh Draco." We turn back toward him. "No dancing."

Hermione's "Tut tut" hides a wry smile, and I allow myself a little chuckle.

I hold my hands up in mock submission. "Lavender would kill me."

"He does that you know." She says. "To make you feel better. Just as things seem darkest, Ron will crack a joke."

"It worked. I do feel a little better. You know what is funny, though?"

"What?"

"Ronald Weasley, one of the most powerful wizards of our age, Order of Merlin first class, changing his son's nappies."

She smiles, "Covering Arty's ears and saying Bludger."

"Yes." I chuckle.

She puts a light hand on my arm, stopping us in the middle of the corridor. "Would you do me a favour?"

"Certainly."

"Don't call him 'Ronald.' It annoys him immensely."

"You call him 'Ronald.'"

"I'm his wife, I can call him lots of things, but you're not. You're not his mother, either."

"Oh." I say with sudden understanding. A small smirk tugs at my lips. She notices.

"What are you thinking Draco?"

"Second year. The howler." The whole school had heard Molly Weasley berate her youngest son.

"So you understand, then?" We continue walking.

"Yes. I didn't mean to offend."

"Oh you haven't offended him, he can hardly take offense to being called by his given name, especially after some of the things you've called us."

"I just thought 'Ron' was a little intimate. Given our history."

She pauses again. "You saved our lives Draco."

That much is true, but it can't be a pleasant memory, for her especially.

"I'm sorry." I say.

She shifts uncomfortably. "I forgave you on the day, Draco."

We stop again at the door to Lavender's Ward. "You earned your Order of Merlin Draco, just like the rest of us." She enters, and I allow them privacy for a moment. Resting myself against the wall, I allow my eyes to close.

"Draco."

"Draco."

"DRACO!"

I awake with a start; I'd literally been asleep on my feet. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, you were asleep, you must be exhausted."

"Lavender?"

"She's asleep, they gave her some medication which made her drowsy."

"I wish we were at St. Mungo's."

"The muggle doctors here are amongst the best in the world." She pats her stomach. "I made sure before we left."

"I just feel so helpless. I don't understand any of this. I can't ask questions without looking like an idiot. You, at least, were born into this world."

"The muggle doctors aren't fools Draco, in many cases they know more than St. Mungo's healers."

"I know." I say. "It's just difficult for me. I need to have faith, _Faith in other hands."_

_To be continued._

**Notes:**

1. Thanks to Scarlett for Beta'ering my stuff.

2. Thanks to Scarlett again for the "Don't call him Ronald" bit. She pointed out that Draco calling him Ronald would annoy Ron no end, whereas I felt he would call him that because it was his given name, and the proper thing to do. So I've drafted a resolution. He just won't call him Ronald to his face.

3. The next chapter is called "The Chamber Of Secrets." 10 points to the first person who figures out where it is.


End file.
